notes on a studio 💌 it’s a hot day. sweat spreads like an opening hand on my tank top. I make everyone tell me their love stories once we kick our shoes off. I want to write about something I used to find sad that I now find funny. I want to excavate deep without hitting bone. I want guitars with sand in their mouths and drums played by angry robots. I pick up a ukelele and feel blindly until I hit something that sounds like a joke I’ve heard a hundred times before. a good verse feels like fingertips, the creation of adam. a good chorus and finally they touch.